Comic book readers and moviegoers love to see superheroes fight, whether to protect innocent people from supervillains or to save the world from invaders from outer space. But superheroes also fight each other, and if we can look past the energy blasts and earth-shattering punches, we can find serious disagreements over principles and ethics. This was certainly the case when Captain America and Iron Man went head-to-head over liberty and security in Marvel Comics’ epic Civil War storyline, a fictional allegory to post-9/11 America (as well as the basis for the third Captain America film).

In his latest book, Mark D. White, author of The Virtues of Captain America and editor of Iron Man and Philosophy, carefully leads you through the ethical thinking of the three characters on the front lines of the Civil War:

Iron Man, who has taken charge of the US government’s efforts to register and train superheroes to enhance safety and security

Captain America, who leads the resistance against registration in the name of individual liberty and privacy

Spider-Man, who is torn between his two mentors and has a uniquely personal stake in the battle

In his characteristically light and humorous tone, White lays out the basic ethical foundations of each hero’s thinking and highlights the moral judgment each must use to put his ethics into action. He also explains how the Civil War affected the three heroes after the battle ended and how the experience continued to test them in very different ways as events in the Marvel Universe continued to unfold. Finally, he uses examples from Civil War to show how conflicting principles such as liberty and security must be balanced in the real world, lest both be lost.

Written in a style that will be easily accessible to those new to philosophy or superhero comics, A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics’ Civil War will be a fascinating read for diehard comics fans and philosophy buffs as well.

If you want to find out more about the book, there are several places to look (and listen):

My podcast with Nerdsync, in which Scott Niswander and I covered many of the topics and issues in my book, the Civil War comics, and what we could surmise about the upcoming movie, and still only seemed to scratch the surface!

The lectures I gave at Northwood University on the topic of superheroes, liberty, and security, the video of which can be found here (although the player can be very touchy with respect to browsers, with Internet Explorer and Edge working the best, and Firefox sometimes).

January 19, 2016

It's finally here, my long-promised book on Marvel Comics' Civil War storyline and my initial foray into self-publishing with Amazon's Kindle Direct, publishing on February 3 and available now for pre-order:is now being published by Ockham Publishing in print and ebook formats and is available for pre-order on Amazon:

From the promotional copy that someone other than me definitely wrote:

Comic book readers and moviegoers love to see superheroes fight, whether to protect innocent people from supervillains or to save the world from invaders from outer space. But superheroes also fight each other, and if we can look past the energy blasts and earth-shattering punches, we can find serious disagreements over principles and ethics. This was certainly the case when Captain America and Iron Man went head-to-head over liberty and security in Marvel Comics’ epic Civil War storyline, a fictional allegory to post-9/11 America (as well as the basis for the third Captain America film).

In his latest book, Mark D. White, author of The Virtues of Captain America and editor of Iron Man and Philosophy, carefully leads you through the ethical thinking of the three characters on the front lines of the Civil War:

Iron Man, who has taken charge of the US government’s efforts to register and train superheroes to enhance safety and security

Captain America, who leads the resistance against registration in the name of individual liberty and privacy

Spider-Man, who is torn between his two mentors and has a uniquely personal stake in the battle

In his characteristically light and humorous tone, White lays out the basic ethical foundations of each hero’s thinking and highlights the moral judgment each must use to put his ethics into action. He also explains how the Civil War affected the three heroes after the battle ended and how the experience continued to test them in very different ways as events in the Marvel Universe continued to unfold. Finally, he uses examples from Civil War to show how conflicting principles such as liberty and security must be balanced in the real world, lest both be lost.

Written in a style that will be easily accessible to those new to philosophy or superhero comics, A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics’ Civil War will be a fascinating read for diehard comics fans and philosophy buffs as well.

I originally planned to focus on the larger political issues in the book, but then decided to change the focus to what I really enjoy writing about: the characters themselves. This allowed me to explore the three heroes' different ethical frameworks, the way each used his judgment to put their ethics into action, and how their choices affected them during the Civil War as well as afterwards. Iron Man had the longest arc, which carried him through World War Hulk, the Secret Invasion, Norman Osborn's "Dark Reign," and the Siege of Asgard. Cap's and Spidey's arcs following the Civil War were shorter, for different reasons, but are just as fascinating, with Cap's nicely dovetailing with Iron Man's during the Siege.

As you might guess from the title—and especially from the banner atop the marvelous cover designed by the incomparable S.L. Johnson, a wonderful collaborator and adviser on this project whose work you can see here—I have a mind to publish more A Philosopher Reads... ebooks on various superhero characters and storylines in the future. (The title was inspired by books like this and is meant to suggest that this is only one philosopher's reading of Civil War, and is in no way definitive, much less comprehensive.) I will continue to publish superhero-related books with traditional publishers when our interests coincide; I'm working on one at the moment and in discussions to do another. But the self-published ebook format allows me the freedom to write on whatever I want, regardless of the availability of "promotional moments" like films or TV series, and at whatever length I choose; A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War is the same length as The Virtues of Captain America, but future ones may be shorter if appropriate. (But my epic treatment of Green Arrow's classic Van Dyke will naturally be a three-volume set.)

The other person without whom I could never have done this is my intrepid copyeditor Louise Spencely, who also worked on The Virtues of Captain America and Superman and Philosophy. Not only does she find all of my embarrassing typos and unforgivable offenses to grammar, logic, and common sense, she also "gets" my style and voice and helps it come out more clearly. On the top of all this, she was invaluable to helping me format the manuscript for Kindle, not only on technical matters but also finding the most attractive font and layout. (You can learn more about her here.)

If you liked The Virtues of Captain America or my essays in various books in the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series, or if you love Civil War and these characters as much as I do, or even if you just like a little philosophy with your superheroes (or vice versa), please check out A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War: Exploring the Moral Judgment of Captain America, Iron Man, and Spider-Man and let me know what you think!

October 30, 2015

I clearly remember seeing the internet headlines on a Wednesday morning several weeks ago when the first issue of Nick Spencer and Daniel Acuña's Captain America: Sam Wilson was published, screaming about "Captain Socialism," which were joined later that day (naturally) by Fox News. The irony, of course, was that the alarm was completely unfounded, that all Sam Wilson said in the comics was that he planned to get more involved in politics than his predecessor Steve Rogers did (with all details given off-panel), and it was the press and the American public in the comic book that overreacted by accusing Sam of being anti-American, socialist, traitorous, etc. Were Spencer and Acuña engaging in a bit of playful trolling based on a too easily predictable real-world media reaction which they actually predicted in the same comic? (I hope so.)

Beneath the hype and hysteria, though, it remains that Sam Wilson is a different Captain America, forging a new path that diverges in some important ways from the one tread for decades by Steve Rogers. And even more impressive, Spencer and Acuña have achieved this distinction while staying true to Rogers' well-established characterization. (This contrasts with comments made by a previous creative team who, in the process of explaining the difference between Sam and Steve, oversimplified Steve's views to obscure the fact that Sam was going to be little more than a carbon-copy Cap with wings and a bird.)

Along the way to pointing out Sam and Steve's subtle differences, Spencer and Acuña also toy a bit with the segment of modern comics readership who like to jump to conclusions based on a handful of preview pages and solicitation text and fueled by internet speculation (and, in no small part, the marketing efforts of the comics publishers). Our creative team does so not only with Sam's internal dialogue but also in his exchanges with the dudebros seated on either side of him on an airplane, who take everything they read on Twitter to be the whole story and refuse to listen to Sam's mroe elaborate explanations. As Sam thinks to himself, "it's a complicated, messy story"—and Spencer and Acuña do a masterful job of peeling back the layers to this story (with many more still to be revealed, I'm sure).

The complicated and messy part I was most pleased to see dealt with the difference in Sam and Steve's moral perspectives, a difference which is nowhere near as simple or stark as the final scene of the first issue (or the cover of the second one) would have us believe.

Two scenes in Captain America: Sam Wilson #2 show this very well:

1. In these panels, a reporter asks Steve what he thinks about Sam's new political stance:

He simply nails it: Sam is his own Captain America and he can choose how to play that role, whether or not it's how Steve played it in his heyday or how he would play it now. Steve also struggled with the call to political activism in the past, such as when he wanted to support Andrew Bolt's congressional campaign (early in Mark Waid's Heroes Return run). His solution was to remain neutral as Captain America but work for the campaign as Steve Rogers (regardless of whether people knew they were one and the same—recall that he also made a big fuss about surrendering at the end of the Civil War as Steve Rogers, not Cap). Would Sam make that same decision? Perhaps not, but Sam is not Steve, and it was great to see Steve acknowledge that for the press (in the Marvel Universe as well as ours).

2. After SHIELD catches a man who released secret files describing a proposal to use Cosmic Cube fragments to make subtle changes to reality, Maria Hill makes clear she relishes the thought of submitting him to military tribunal. While Sam and Steve both oppose this project and personally make sure SHIELD scraps any plans to pursue it, they disagree on what should be done with the whistleblower (let's call him "Snedward Owden"), with Sam much more concerned about Hill's plans than Steve is.

Here we see Steve and Sam differ in terms of their confidence that the whistleblower will receive fair treatment and impartial justice at the hands of SHIELD and/or the military, and also their roles regarding the law (on which more below). Sam describes their essential difference of opinion the following page, an important yet nuanced disagreement that feels natural within the context of the two characters' backgrounds and which could lead to some fascinating character beats in future issues:

I could quibble a bit with Steve's statement above that "we don't get to put ourselves above" the law, especially after admitting his past civil disobedience to Sam (and emphasizing his willingness to be held accountable for it). Perhaps this is a result of Steve's official SHIELD role as chief of civilian oversight, just as his appointment as head of global security following the Siege of Asgard made him more assertive regarding Tony's exclusive use of the Iron Man armor (as seen in the first issue of Avengers Prime). Or maybe he feels it's his responsibility as chief of civilian oversight to monitor the tribunal, requiring a certain degree of faith in a process he'll be involved in. After all, unlike the registration act (and earlier government policies he regarded as unjust), he does not see any problem with military tribunals per se that warrants disobedience—especially if he's on the scene. Even if this does signal a shift in Steve's views, it is not a shocking or abrupt one. (This, of course, assumes that this is the same Steve Rogers we know from the 616 Marvel Universe, and not some New 52-style slight-of-hand where, post-Secret Wars, he's "basically the same character but different—just keep reading!" That remains to be seen.)

Only two issues into their run, Spencer and Acuña have fulfilled the hopes I had for Sam Wilson as Captain America since his "appointment" was announced. They've begun to give Sam a unique perspective on serving as Captain America that represents an interesting alternative view on the role that offers endless story possibilities, without watering down or stretching the concept of Cap itself beyond recognition. As well as further discussion with Steve, I hope we get to see some of Sam's internal struggles with his new stance, in which he questions how far Captain America can and should go in support of a particular position. This is not to say he shouldn't be more political than Steve was, but I would like to see him acknowledge and confront the fact that it is a different role for Captain America (rather than simply defending it to others).

Personally, this is the most excited I'm been about the Captain America title since Steve took up the shield after Bucky "died" during Fear Itself. (It's worth mentioning at this point that young James was a different sort of Cap too.) While a part of me longs to see Steve "enyouthened" and back in the star-and-stripes at some point, the rest of me looks forward to a long, insightful, and enjoyable run of Captain America: Sam Wilson from Spencer and Acuña.

November 21, 2014

Marvel's current crossover event, AXIS, involves various characters having their ethical orientation "inverted": heroes become villians and vice versa. A deceptively simple premise that has been used throughout the history of superhero comics—but rarely on this scale—it has potential for interesting stories (as well as culminating in "things will never be the same" changes to the status quo).

Ironically, however, it is precisely the aspect of Marvel's characters that makes them unique—their moral complexity and nuance—that confounds efforts to "flip" them from good to evil or from evil to good, resulting in strange adn confusing choices in storytelling and characterization.

There are very few characters in the Marvel Universe who are unambiguously good or evil: Captain America (that is, Steve Rogers) and the Red Skull, who are not among the inverted, are the two obvious exceptions. (There could be others too: for instance, I'd throw in Spider-Man, pure of heart but imperfect in execution, who interestingly was also not inverted.) The vast majority of the Marvel heroes and villains, however, are more complex, the heroes struggling against their more base natures and the villains striving to some degree to find redemption or achieve noble ends. But this complexity, a hallmark of Marvel Comics since the firm of Lee, Kirby, Ditko, and Associates dreamed them up in the 1960s, makes it diffiult to simply "flip" their moral characters. As a result, in AXIS we see a wildly inconsistent approach to inversions, especially regarding several heroes and one villain in particular.

Throughout this series and its tie-ins, I've been fascinated and frustrated by two characters in particular, Iron Man and Doctor Doom, whom I've long found to be very similar in their moral characters. Essentially utilitarian in their ethics, both pursue their personal visions of "the good" while believing that the ends justify the means. This leads Iron Man, for example, to take the controversial actions he took during Civil War in order to protect the superhero community, and leads Doom to try to take over the world, time and time again, because—as shown well in the miniseries Doomwar—he believes in his heart that only his rule can save humanity. Of course, both also have massive egos which serve to enable their extreme actions in pursuit of their singular visions, granting each the perception of entitlement, even the duty, to use their superior intelligence to save the world, damn the costs (as well as indulge personal vendettas and grudges along the way), and it is this arrogance which often foils their greatest ambitions (especially in Doom's case).

But after they are inverted during AXIS, these two similar characters are spun in completely opposite directions. Iron Man is portrayed as a mustache-twirling Snidely, teasing the citizens of San Francisco with an Extremis app that can make them "perfect" and then charging them $100 per day to maintain it. (This could be seen merely as leveraging an extremely attractive—and presumably legal—product for maximum revenue, but that sort of behavior often represents evil in popular fiction, and in any case is quite a departure from Tony's recent corporate altruism.) In other words, whatever restraints Tony Stark once felt on his pursuit of the good, for himself or for the world, have been removed. But this is not Tony "inverted"—this is Tony squared, Tony unleashed, his buffers removed, all second-guessing forgotten, resulting in even more of a caricature of himself than (according to some) in Civil War.

On the other hand, Doom has been all but neutered, now positively apoplectic about all the pain he caused his beloved citizens of Latveria, on whom he bestows democracy (by fiat, natch) before embarking on a program of making amends like a charter member of Villains Anonymous. The once proud and noble Doom simpers to Valeria Richards (daughter of Sue and Reed, currently living with Dad's greatest enemy in a delightful act of childhood defiance) about his need to right his past wrongs and also protect himself Latveria from an inverted Scarlet Witch who wants revenge for the events of Avengers Disassembled, House of M, and her wimple. (He had nothing to do with last one, but she could be understandably pissed about it all the same.) He even admits to Valeria—brace yourself, true believers—that Reed Richards has "always been right."

While Iron Man's "inversion" magnified his worse impulses, Doom's robbed him of his best. He either no longer seems to want to save humanity—a change that, in itself, hardly seems heroic—or he no longer feels he can do it and that the way he was doing it was incorrect—which is not an ethical change but an empirical one about methods. The thing that was evil about Doom was the steps he was willing to take to serve his goal of saving the world, but his nobility came from his sense of purpose and the moral lines he was not willing to cross (matters of honor such as truthfulness and keeping promises). Where he was once a fascinating man of extremes, now he's been reduced in both his ambition and his arrogance.

How interesting it would have been if, instead, Doom had been inverted into a traditional one-dimensional villain instead, using his brilliance to rob banks. Then, at least, the reader would have been led to ponder the true complexity of Doom's character and wonder if he was really a villain to begin with, and in what ways he was different from a hero like Iron Man. (At least they didn't make him an angry blogger.)

It seems that what the inversions did was not to flip the overall ethical orientation of the affected heroes—except in the most simplistic way possible, turning nuanced moral characters into one-dimensional caricatures—but merely flip the degree to which they perceived limits on their activity: for example, Iron Man sees fewer limits and Doom sees more. Apart from Tony and Vic, the Scarlet Witch indulges her desire for revenge against Doom; the all-new Captain America (Sam Wilson) still fights crime, but more like the Punisher than he did as the Falcon; and the X-Men become very pro-active against humanity (making Cyclops look like Gandhi). None of them has become a villain per se, but simply less traditionally heroic by virtue of crossing lines that once they refused to cross.

The main idea of AXIS is to flip heroes and villains along the "axis" of good and evil. But given the complexity granted to most of the Marvel characters by their creators, and maintained over the years out of dedication to that vision, there is no simple axis to be found. Most Marvel characters express their heroism or villainy in nuanced and multifaceted ways, so there are many axes along with they can be inverted. For example, they can be flipped in one aspect of them (such as what remained of Tony's restraints on his pursuit of goals), flipped along more than one of them (such as Doom's loss of ambition and arrogance), or reduced to a simple black-and-white caricature (such as the Scarlet Witch of Vengeance).

Of course, the "fuzzy" method of inversion in AXIS may have been part of the creators' plan—it did result from a magical spell, after all, and magic is known for its unpredictability. But I think some great story possibilities were missed by not considering what truly makes the various Marvel characters heroes or villains—or both.

April 3, 2014

Imagine you’re a leader in your community, fighting on behalf of a principle for which you are personally willing to sacrifice anything. Your own well-being is of no concern to you as long as your actions are protecting and promoting the ideal in which you believe so strongly. One day, however, you notice that your actions are hurting those around you, both those who are similarly invested in your cause as well as others who are not involved—including, perhaps, many whom you’re trying to help. You may even be winning the fight, until you notice that its costs, especially those borne by others, are simply getting too high to bear. Do you fight on, regardless of the cost, or do you stop, cutting the losses but losing the larger fight?

This sounds like the type of hypothetical situation that philosophy professors give to their students to work through. But it’s not hypothetical to people around the world who fight for social justice, gladly sacrificing their own livelihoods for their cause, while perhaps also inflicting collateral damage on others. It’s also a situation that the superhero Captain America faced in the Marvel Comics storyline “Civil War” in which he defended the freedoms of his fellow heroes against a law that would compel them to reveal their secret identities to the government and register as agents of the state.

When we think of complex and nuanced moral decision-making, comic book superheroes probably don’t immediately spring to mind. If they did, most people would choose the psychologically complex Batman rather than the flag-waving Captain America. “Cap” is often criticized, by fans in the real world as well as his fellow heroes in the Marvel Universe, as embodying old-fashioned, “black-and-white” ethical thinking that is anachronistic in our modern, morally ambiguous world. What Cap actually shows, however, is how values are of no use in realistic moral dilemmas without the essential faculty of judgment.

Each of the three major schools of moral philosophy needs the help of judgment to result in specific actions. Unique among them, virtue ethics highlights the importance of nuanced and contextual decision-making, such as in Aristotle’s emphasis on practical judgment (phronesis). Virtue ethicists recommend the cultivation of character traits such as honesty that promote moral action but stop short of formulating rules to guide it, leaving it to judgment to determine how to balance virtues in any given ethical dilemma.

Judgment is essential to the other two schools of ethics as well, although this is often minimized in favor of their rule-focused aspects. Utilitarianism seems straightforward once you get to the final step, adding up the effect of individual utilities and comparing this sum to alternatives. But the process of determining those utilities, as well as deciding whose utilities to include and which contingencies you want to account for, require judgment—and the result can have an enormous impact on whether the utilitarian calculation results in a “yea” or “nay.”

Deontology, which emphasizes duties and principles, seems more clear-cut, avoiding the messy empirical details of moral dilemmas. But it has no obvious way to deal with conflicts between two duties or principles, nor to decide when the costs of standing by principle become too great. Even Immanuel Kant, a strict deontologist, stressed the necessity of judgment, which he considered “a peculiar talent which can be practiced only, and cannot be taught” (Critique of Pure Reason, A133/B172). As Onora O’Neill wrote about Kant, “Discussions of judgment . . . are ubiquitous in Kant’s writings. He never assumes agents can move from principles of duty, or from other principles of action, to se­lecting a highly specific act in particular circumstances without any process of judg­ment. He is as firm as any devotee of Aristotelian phronesis in maintaining that prin­ciples of action are not algorithms and do not entail their own applications” (“Kant: Rationality as Practical Reason,” in The Oxford Handbook of Rationality, edited by Alfred R. Mele and Piers Rawling, p. 104).

While Captain America’s moral character is based on virtues and duties—giving the impression of simplistic, “right and wrong” thinking—he shows the importance of moral judgment in balancing these moral factors before making a decision. Take the example from the Marvel “Civil War” that led off this essay: at the end of the story (Civil War #7, January 2007), Captain America and his allies were winning the climactic battle against Iron Man and other heroes defending superhero registration. As Captain America was about to deliver the final blow against his fellow Avenger, a group of ordinary people pulled Cap away and showed him how the battle had destroyed much of Manhattan. After realizing how much the battle was costing the residents of New York, he signaled to his allies to stop fighting and surrendered. Cap didn’t abandon his principle of freedom; he simply decided it was no longer worth the cost it was imposing on others. His values didn’t change—but his judgment did.

Simple rules such as “stand by your principles” or “minimize harm” are no good in situations like this. Captain America had to keep both of these rules in mind and balance them using his judgment. As Kant emphasized, there is no way to explain judgment as a rule or algorithm; rather it is what a person turns to when rules or algorithms fail to solve a moral problem. In this way judgment resembles Ronald Dworkin’s theory of judicial decision-making, in which a judge balances the various principles relevant to a “hard case” according to the principles and ideals he or she believes best explain the broader legal system. Similarly, in a moral dilemma a person must balance his or her various principles and beliefs to arrive at a decision that maintains the integrity of his or her moral character.

Captain America’s core principles and virtues may be “black and white,” but the way that he balances them is complex, nuanced, and sensitive to context. In the dramatic, life-threatening situations he faces in his comic books and movies, Cap demonstrates how the basic ideas of ethics serve merely as guidelines that by themselves cannot determine the best or right action on their own. As the narration to Captain America, vol. 1, #184 (April 1975) read, "he thinks in principle... tempered on the forge of understanding, and honed to the edge of reality." Moral philosophy can help identify the critical elements of a problem, but each person’s judgment is crucial to finding what Dworkin called (in the context of jurisprudence) the “right answer,” the one that is consistent with his or her moral character. By doing so, we can craft our own character much like Cap’s writers craft his—with or without the red, white, and blue costume.

Unlike the books I edited or co-edited for the Blackwell Philosophy and Popular Culture series (such as Batman and Philosophy), this one is written solely by me—for better or for worse! Also, rather than presenting a survey of philosophical ideas presented through the lens of its topic, The Virtues of Captain America has a specific focus: showing how the "old-fashioned" ethical code of Steve Rogers is just as essential today as it was in the past, not only as a role model for individual character but also as a way out of America's current political divisiveness.

I had several goals in mind as I wrote this book:

Similar to the approach of the Blackwell Philosophy and Popular Culture series, in this book I introduce basic concepts of moral philosophy, especially virtue ethics, using examples drawn from decades of Captain America stories. In particular, I wanted to address the complexity of moral decision-making, for which simple rules, formulas, and virtues can be a guide but never the final answer. For this reason, judgment is a constant theme in the book (and takes up an entire chapter in itself).

I wanted to address the perception that Captain America's ethical code is anachronistic, simplistic, and "black and white." As I argue throughout the book, none of these could be farther from the truth. The ideals that ground Cap's ethics are timeless, and while his core principles may be simple, the process of using judgment to balance them to make moral decisions in specific circumstances is anything but black-and-white, as Cap shows time and time again in the comics.

More ambitiously, I wanted to show that Captain America's relationship to his country—in particular, the way he emphasizes principle over politics—can help Americans in the real world to start to heal our radical political divisions. If we focus, as Cap does, on the core ideals of justice, equality, and liberty that Americans share, we can better put into context our differences of opinion regarding how best to put these ideals into practice.

And, most personally, I wanted to share my love of this classic superhero character through his decades of stories in comics such as Captain America, Avengers, and the countless other titles in which he's appeared over the years (hundreds of which are cited in the book). In the process, I also pay tribute to the dozens of talented creators who have crafted his stories, starting with Joe Simon, Jack Kirby, and Stan Lee, and continung with legends such as Jim Sternako, J.M. DeMatteis, Mark Waid, Ed Brubaker, and Paul Jenkins (just to name a few).

I'm sure to bombard you with more details and sneak peeks as the book approaches publication, but for the time being, you might like the following articles and blog posts I've written about Cap in the past (many of which laid the groundwork for the book):

A piece from this very blog discussing Cap's sense of authority in the context of Stoic thought. (You can also click on Captain America at the right to see more posts on him, not all of which are worth listing here.)

Finally, I discussed Captain America, directly or indirectly, in a number of chapters in the Blackwell Philosophy and Popular Culture series:

June 16, 2013

Before I start, a caveat: I couldn't help but notice the controversy over Man of Steel on Twitter, much of it involving Mark Waid, one of the standard-bearers for a view of Superman I share. Passions are running hot over this one, which is both good and bad—it's good that people are talking this much about a Superman movie (or a DC Comics movie in general), but it's disheartening that they're arguing over the fundamental nature of a character that should be well established by now. Anyway, I've avoided reading any reviews or commentary, so other people may very well have said what I'm about to say, and if so, likely much better.

I'm going to offer some general comments about the movie, and then some discussion about some ethical topics raised by it. I'll keep the spoilers until the second part, and I'll warn you when they're coming.

First, Man of Steel as a movie (not as a Superman movie): I liked it. I loathe long films—90 to 100 minutes is perfect as far as I'm concerned—but even at 143 minutes it didn't feel long, and no parts of it dragged. Henry Cavill impressed me as Clark/Superman, having only seen him in The Tudors, and Amy Adams (whom I've seen in most everything she's done) played an effective Lois, but neither blew me away. The finest perfomances by far were Russell Crowe as Jor-El and Michael Shannon as Zod—both stole every scene they were in, and interactions between them were marvelous to watch. (The filmmakers cleverly found a way for Jor-El to appear throughout the movie despite... well, you know.)

The action scenes were spread throughout the movie nicely, broken up by emotional dialogue or flashback. This was important, because the action scenes themselves were intense—while there was little blood, there was more than enough destruction and explosions to earn the PG-13 rating. (I would not be comfortable taking my kids, 5 and 10, to this movie, and they've seen all the recent Marvel superhero movies.)

Visually, the movie was very stylish. While the Smallville and Metropolis scenes were by necessity reminiscent of past depictions, the designs of Krypton and Kryptonian technology were breathtaking, from their 3-D sculpting technology (for lack of a better term) to the armor the Kryptonians wore on Earth. But the movie was just so dim, like it was all shot through a fine gauze. There were no bright colors at all: Krypton was gray with accents of gray. Smallville was brown. Metropolis was—guess what—gray. And if you thought Superman would bring a ray of sunshine into any of this, you would be wrong. We've all seen the movie costume, all muted red and blue, with just a touch of muted yellow thanks to DC Comics' New 52 redesign. (And don't even get me started on the costume's texture, which reminds me of that rubber thingie you use to open the jar of pasta sauce that's been in your refrigerator since Superman Returns was out.)

But the dull tinge of the movie matched its narrative tone well—this is a dark movie through and through. Not quite Nolan-Batman dark, but more like Webb's Spider-Man but with none of the humor. The team behind The Amazing Spider-Man was able to give us a superhero film starring an upbeat character that fit with the current times but still retained some of the irreverance we expect from Webhead. But Man of Steel, featuring a character whose big red "S" stands for hope, was sorely lacking in hope, optimism, or joy. This is definitely a movie for a generation that is more likely to look in the sky and say "it's a bird, it's a drone—yep, it's a drone" with little hope of seeing a hero.

And nothing illustrates that point better than the ethics-loaded notes in the movie. This is where the SPOILERS start, so read on at your own risk if you have yet to see the movie.

----------

I have very mixed feelings about how Man of Steel showed Superman's heroism and ethical decision-making. Don't get me wrong, there are several inspiring scenes of heroism in the movie, such as the scene from the trailers in which young Clark pushes the schoolbus out of the river (at the risk of revealing his powers), and the scene near the end of the movie in which he destroys the world engine while it robs him of his powers. Other characters get in on the action too: Lois, Perry White, and Jonathan Kent all get chances to be heroic. These were fantastic moments in an otherwise dour film.

Unfortunately, these moments we expect from a superhero movie are overshadowed by other scenes that we don't. Clark/Superman makes some questionable moral choices in the movie, choices that may be understandable if any other person made them, but not Superman (or even any other cinematic superhero outside of Wolverine).

I've written a bit the last couple years about Superman's need to use moral judgment, rather than his incredible powers, to resolve tragic dilemmas, conflicts in principles or duties from which he cannot excape "with clean hands." In the comics, this usually takes the form of Luthor leaving Lois dangling off the ledge at the top of a skyscraper in Metropolis while a tidal wave threatens to wipe out a town in Indonesia. What will Superman do? If he can't save both, he has to make a choice, and by necessity that choice will involve a foregone option.

But guess what? In the comics, he manages to do both, to save Lois and the Indonesians. Because he's Superman. He does the impossible. He doesn't let the situation (or Lex Luthor) define his options—Superman defines his own options. He finds a way.

This is most relevant to the end of the movie when Superman kills Zod. After Lois helped the government scientists send the other Kryptonians and their battleship back to the Phantom Zone, Superman faced Zod alone. Zod indiscriminately used his heat vision to reap destruction and murder on Metropolis, and even after Supes had him in a chokehold, the deadly rays from Zod's eyes crept closer and closer to a small group of innocent bystanders. At the last moment, Superman snapped Zod's neck; Zod fell to the ground and Superman fell to his knees in tears.

Superman's remorse was obvious—and so was mine. (Not everyone felt this way; many in the theater cheered, which I've heard was not an uncommon reaction across the country.) This resolution to the story doen't work for me in a number of ways.

First, if Superman had the strength and control to twist Zod's head to snap his neck, why couldn't he turn Zod's head just to divert it from the bystanders? I can let this one go: Zod is a more experienced fighter than Superman is, and perhaps Superman had to put the last of his might into twisting Zod's head without being able to moderate his exertion sufficiently to avoid killing him. Also, this is a young Superman, fighting a physical equal for the first time in his short career. I can excuse him for not having the experience and wisdom to consider other options—people were going to die and he had to make a choice. I get that.

But I don't blame Superman for what he did in the story—I blame those who wrote the story and chose to portray Superman killing his opponent, presumably to make an "edgy" Superman for the 21st century. Even if I accept that Superman had no other choice in that situation, the people who made the movie had a choice whether to put him in that situation. They didn't have to show Superman killing someone—they chose to. They didn't even wait until the third movie, after his heroic ideals had been established and then his "necessary" compromise takes on more weight. No, they chose to show Superman killing someone in his first movie, thereby setting up his moral code for the rest of this appearances in this cycle of films. (Watch out, Luthor.)

And I find that choice despicable. I know full well that tough decisions sometimes have to be made, and Superman is not immune to them. And I love stories that show that moral struggle. But I also love to see Superman find a way to rise above the moral struggle, to show us that if you try hard enough, think the situation through, and refuse to compromise, you can find a way out.

This won't always work for normal human beings, but Superman isn't a normal human being. Superman is an ideal. The ideal. He shows us the best of what we can be. As Mark Waid said on Twitter, Superman shouldn't be written to more like us—he should be written so we want to be more like him. But this is not how the Man of Steel was written, and that's why it fails as a Superman movie.

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I saw Man of Steel Friday afternoon, and Saturday morning I went to Barnes & Noble with my son, who loves superheroes. We always look at both the regular graphic novel section and the rack in the kids' section with superhero books. (And we might happen to pass the philosophy shelves in between, just to make sure all my books are facing outwards. I'm a helper.) There's a new book in the kids' section titled Man of Steel: Superman Saves Smallville that tells a simpler version of the story in the movie, including the climactic ending. But it tells the ending a little differently:

So there were other ways to end the story without Superman killing his enemy—whew, and here I thought it was just me. (Ironically, the one reviewer so far at Amazon says even this book is too violent for small children!) Sure, in the storybook the villain got away. But that's one of the ways superhero movies usually end: either the villain is captured, gets away, or dies by his own hand (as the hero tries to save him, of course). More to the point, that's how Superman movies should end.

Of course, we can easily imagine situations in which Superman would have no choice but to kill his enemy, and skilled creators could craft an engaging story around it. (See my chapter from Superman and Philosophy for one example.) But an argument can be made that not only would it be a bad Superman story, but that it would not be a Superman story at all. Superman isn't the guy who usually does the right thing—Superman is the guy who does the right thing by definition. Any less and it just isn't Superman.

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Epilogue: I couldn't find anywhere to mention this, but I was also disturbed by the scene in which Clark lets his father walk into the path of the tornado to save the family dog and help people get to safety. I get that it was supposed to show Clark the folly of hiding his abilities at the cost of innocent lives. But it threatens to introduce an "Uncle Ben" aspect to the Superman mythos in which Clark would forever be plagued by the knowledge that his father died because he stood back. Furthermore, it made no sense in story: Clark could have done exactly what Jonathan did (rescue the dog and help people to safety) without revealing his powers, and in the process protecting his father. As shown, it was a confounding story element that introduces an unnecessary and possibly disturbing element to the Superman backstory—another disappointing choice on the part of the filmmakers.

In this chapter, I explain how Superman's powers don't make him immune to the need to make difficult moral choices that can't be solved by simple rules (much less super-strength). For examples, the chapter draws Superman's execution of three Kryptonians villains (including an alternate version of General Zod), which led to his self-imposed exile from Earth, as well as his more recent walk across America in the "Grounded" storyline (which I discussed previously here and here).